Bargaining Chip
by Trinaluv33
Summary: An old friend of Mycroft's arrives in town. When Sherlock agrees to help Mycroft track down his 'friend', he is dragged into a dangerous ride for survival. Mycroft knows what this man desires- will he be willing to give it up to save his brother's life?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I just recently got hooked on Sherlock, and I can honestly say, that I am SherLOCKED. :) It was only last week that I purchased Season 1 off of iTunes. My heart broke when I heard that Season 2 wasn't airing in the US. So, alas, this fic doesn't have any connection with Season 2, nor contains any real spoilers for Season 1 besides perhaps a few references. I am not a Sherlock/John shipper, just for your information, unless by Sherlock/John it is meant their undying friendship. There isn't any pairing in this story besides Sherlock/Mycroft brotherly love and Sherlock/John friendship. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock- I'm obviously nowhere as cool as Moffat or Gatiss. **

**Enjoy!**

_Bargaining Chip_

Mycroft sighed and rested his head against his burgundy chair. In his hand laid limply his cell phone, hopelessly awaiting a reply from Sherlock. Sherlock was a very stubborn young man, of that Mycroft was well aware. All he had asked was help in tracking down an old friend. Sherlock had, of course, declined the offer of money, stating that he was too busy. The lie hadn't offended Mycroft. He was aware of Watson's worry over money issues and desire to be able to pay the bills. It was only a manner of time before the army doctor convinced his little brother to take the case. And he had.

Mycroft allowed his phone to slip from his grasp. How things had so quickly soured, the eldest Holmes brother reflected. It wasn't that he was worried about his younger brother- no; Sherlock was capable of taking care of himself. It was more the fact that the enemy had gained the upper hand. It irked him that someone had gotten the better of his little brother. Normally, Sherlock was always ten steps ahead of his adversary, and at the start of the game, that had been the case. And he was doing so well...

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Mycroft reached for his water glass- discarding the trembling of his hand to his imagination. It was one hour past midnight, and he spared a glance down to his discarded phone on the floor- one new message.

Without hesitation he retrieved his phone and opened the message. He watched the video with a solemn expression on his face. No, he wasn't worried about his little brother... was he?

**TBC**

**A/N: This was just a short prologue. If you are interested in me continuing, please feel free to drop off a review on your way out. Thanks for reading!**

**~Trinaluv33~**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed/story-alerted/favorited this! I wrote this chapter in between midterms(yuck, I know) but the negativity of midterms did not affect this chapter. :) However, my sucky writing might have, but that's beside the point. This one is longer, surprisingly- I have the bad disorder of shortchapteritus. I know, pray for me in your reviews. **

**Disclaimer: Yada yada yada- Me. Don't. Own. Got it?**

**Without further ado, Chapter 1!**

_Bargaining Chip_

_24 hours previous, to the dot_

Sherlock sat on the old couch, eyes fixated on the opposite wall in true concentration. His hands were intertwined on his lips, fingertips just barely grazing his nose, in his usual show of contemplation. The computer lay open in front of him, but the screen had long shut off. His brow was knitted in frustration; at his feet his phone blinked incessantly.

The clicking of an opening door filled the room as John made his way through the small entryway with two full bags of groceries threatening to explode at any moment.

"Uh, is there any way you could give me a hand?" His jacket got snagged on the door knob. "...Sherlock?"

"Busy," came the automated response. The sociopath's gaze didn't falter as he mentally tried to cipher a puzzle that Lestrade had asked him to solve.

"Sherlock!" A bag slipped from John's grip, spilling its contents all over the floor. Sherlock sighed and stood, reaching his flat mate in two strides. He silently unhooked Watson's jacket, and then retook his seat on the couch.

"Thanks," John muttered. "...I guess..."

Sherlock nodded, refixing his gaze on the wall. John rolled his eyes and put the groceries away. As he exited the sorry excuse for a kitchen, he noticed Sherlock's phone glowing on the carpet.

"Sherlock, your phone is ringing."

"Ignore it."

A buzzing erupted in John's pocket. "And now _my _phone is ringing."

"_Ignore it,"_ he repeated with a bit more force in his deep voice.

"Oh, look at that," John mocked pulling out his phone. "It's your brother." Sherlock's blue eyes were throwing daggers at the soldier. "Hello? Oh, hi Mycroft!" Sherlock groaned dramatically. "Yes, I'll ask Sherlock- here he is right now."

John handed his phone to the world's only consulting detective. "I'm not interested." He spoke into the device before hanging up and tossing it back to John, who had barely enough time to catch it.

"Why do you insist on ignoring your brother? What did he ever do to you?"

Sherlock didn't answer, instead standing and stalking towards the door. "I'm going out for a bit."

The slam of the door echoed throughout Baker Street.

***SherLOCKED***SherLOCKED***SherLOCKED***SherLOCKED***SherLocked***SherLOCKED***SherLOCKED***SherLOCKED***SherLOCKED***

"Hello, John," Mycroft greeted as he made a cup of tea for the two of them. After Sherlock had stormed out on him, John went straight to Mycroft's office. "What can I do for you?"

"It's about the case you wanted Sherlock's help on-"

Mycroft nodded knowingly. "Oh yes, that. Sherlock didn't seem the least bit interested, did he? I even offered him money." He shook his head in mock shame. "Alas, my brother can be so stubborn at times."

John cleared his throat. "Well, he went out for a walk a while ago. I'm sure he's changed his mind by now."

Mycroft smiled. "That's good to hear," Rummaging through his top suit pocket, he pulled out an off-white check. "Hold on to this starter check, will you? After I'm finished with Sherlock I'll give you two the rest." John graciously took the check and stared at it for a few moments in content.

Mycroft laughed softly, not loud enough for John to hear. "So I assume you've come for the case details?"

John tore his gaze away from the check slowly. "Hm- what? Case details? Oh, yes, the case details- of course."

Mycroft stood and strode to the other side of the room. "An old friend of mine has arrived in town- he's been away at... for business for the past couple of years. All I desire is that Sherlock check up on him, find out his whereabouts, what he's up to- nothing over dramatic." Mycroft pondered for a moment. "In fact, best to not even let him know you're checking on him. He'd take offense to being watched over. But I can't help being worried about my friends."

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah," He recalled when he first met the eldest Holmes and was asked to keep an eye on Sherlock. "So, what's this guy's deal? Is he another criminal mastermind?"

"What?" Mycroft replied, startled by John's brashness. "No, of course not. He's just an old friend, that's all. His name is-

"Alexander Pyiifer." the man was tall and slender, with slicked-back jet black hair and olive-toned eyes.

Sherlock smiled, instantly putting on his 'I'm a normal bloke' facade, and shook the proffered hand. "Hi, John Watson. Pleased to meet you!" Sherlock quickly calculated his mental stability. When he had first stepped into the office building, he spotted Pyiifer talking to a pretty female client. He knew instantly by the way Pyiifer held himself that he was a very rich man. His left shirt cuff had a crisper fold than his right, inferring that he was probably right handed. The coffee mug on the right side of his desk further supported the theory. A blush arose on the client's cheeks, signifying that Pyiifer had been flirting, and quite well. There wasn't any shadow on his ring finger, indicating that he was either not married or frequently took his wedding ring off.

Sherlock observed that for an investment agency, there weren't many workers. In fact, as Sherlock got in a closer range to Pyiifer, the only investing that seemed to be going on was in Pyiifer's love life. That indicated that Pyiifer's investment agency was only a day job- he had something that operated after hours, Sherlock surmised, and something that brought in a lot of cash, by the gold-studded watch and expensive suit.

Returning his mind to the present, Sherlock smiled at the investment agent. "I was wondering what an investment agent's work entails. I've been interested into maybe trying to get a job somewhere, you know, to help pay the bills and put the kids through college."

Pyiifer looked interested- good, thought Sherlock. "Oh, so you have children, Mr. Watson?"

He nodded. "Three- Billy, Molly, and Micah. They're my whole life- like a man's children always are. And please, call me John."

Pyiifer smiled. "And call me Alex. John, if it's a job you're interested in, then I may be of assistance. We're looking to hire a bloke like you, strong-headed, determined. Everything crucial for a good worker. An investment agent is similar to a salesman trying to sell a car- but with more class." He joked. Sherlock laughed to keep him talking. "The job's quite easy, actually. When a client comes in, we just try to convince them to invest in the latest stock or appliance- whatever the case may be."

Sherlock nodded. "That sounds perfect. What time do you usually work to?" As Pyiifer chatted about the work schedule and various responsibilities, Sherlock nonchalantly scoped out the building. There were five stalls for investment agents to work in with their clients. Off to the side was a resting area with coffee and treats. Sherlock nodded along to what Pyiifer was saying, not really paying attention. He mentally noted that there weren't any offices- meaning that there must be a back room.

"We would love to have you as a part of our team!" Pyiifer was exclaiming, a wide smile plastered on his face. "Just come by whenever and drop off your application- just for insurance, I assure you."

Sherlock smiled and stood, shaking his hand again. "Thank you, Mr. Pyii- Alex. I really must be getting home; you know how wives get, always assuming the worst."

Pyiifer smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes- women, can't live with them, can't live without them."

Sherlock took the job application and exited the building, the normal-bloke facade fading from his face.

Alexander Pyiifer watched the dark-haired man leave. There was something about that Mr. Watson that nagged at the back of his mind. He looked strangely familiar...

Alexander silently flipped the open sign to closed and turned off the lights. Walking swiftly to a hidden back door, he entered his office and started his computer.

He needed to do some research on a Mr. John Watson.

_**Pronunciation:**_

_**Pyiifer- (Pie-fur)**_

**A/N: So, I think I might have missed the mark completely on Sherlock's personality. ** **I was going for that facade he put on in The Blind Banker when he was trying to get into VanCoon's flat. **

**Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought. I'd love to hear your thoughts and/or suggestions!**

**Until next time,**

**~Trinaluv33~**


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